It’s October 2016. I’ve lost my phone. My iPhone. At a hospital.
Don’t worry, I wasn’t sick. My wife works at the hospital and I had taken my 7 month old boy in for a lunchtime breastfeed.
We were in the visitors room (whanau room as kiwis will know). I had put my phone on the whanau room coffee table to go to the bathroom. My wife and sons were all in the room with me so I figured it would be safe. Things getting stolen at hospitals? I kind of forgot about that.
I realised it was missing after I returned. I asked my wife to call my number and she got my voicemail. Phone switched off. Bad sign.
There was this other guy in the room too, as it happens, and we politely asked him if he knew where my phone was. No, he didn’t.
So we called the hospital security official who also asked this guy if he had seen my phone. He still hadn’t. The security official asked him for his name and address. No, the guy said. You have no right.
The security official said we could call the police. Was it really worth it? I wasn’t sure, but I called them anyway. Because our suspect was still nearby, a couple of local policeman in the area were happy to come in.
The policemen arrived and asked me a few questions. Because I didn’t actually see the guy take my phone there was no hard evidence, and they could not force a search. The police also found out the suspect’s partner was in a serious condition after giving birth in the maternity ward. That was why he was here in the first place. Understandably, they were even less keen to push the issue.
So everything kind of wound down. The police left and I was resigned to a lack of phone. I wasn’t actually devastated – just a little philosophical – and pondering the different value systems of people who take things that aren’t theirs. I’m not being sarcastic, by the way – these were genuinely my thoughts.
I also made an effort to bless and pray for this guy in my heart – for his wife’s recovery, and I guess for a breakthrough in his life and circumstances that would make him think differently about stealing. Isn’t it great when God empowers us to think/act/pray like this?
Anyway. Fast forward to February 2017. Four months later. I answer my wife’s phone while we are holidaying at our family bach at Lake Taupo. It’s my wife’s colleague at the hospital. A phone has been found under one of the hospital bed mattresses. The phone has a picture of my son on the home screen and my wife’s colleague guesses it’s mine. What is my passcode?
I tell her my passcode and the phone unlocks.
Looks like my guy stashed it there, but didn’t come back to get it for some reason.
Yes, this is a nice story. Things turn out well for me – I get my iPhone back! But can I suggest it means more for me – and for you. Because I have done away with the idea of coincidences in life, this story shows God is a restorer. He returns and restores things back to us. Yes, even material things. Even iPhones.
Wouldn’t we do the same for our kids if we had the resources? Isn’t the real issue believing that God really cares about all aspects of our lives – right down to the stuff we own?
So. You may not know me that well yet, but I would like you to consider this. Have you lost something physical or material that you want back? Or have you lost something intangible – your marriage, a best friend, your dreams, your joy?
I would LOVE to hear what that something is, and I would love to agree with you for its return. Comment below, or private message if you would rather.
Finally, please share this post if you think it would help someone else you know.